


Me With Open Arms

by alittlewicked



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rain, Sexual Content, Smut, because obviously :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 08:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12553028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlewicked/pseuds/alittlewicked
Summary: #11 - It's raining.Louis carefully wound one arm around Harry’s shoulders and made himself comfortable once again. He carded one hand into Harry’s luscious locks, stroking his scalp and absentmindedly petting his hair. Indulging himself, he caught a whiff of Harry’s hair, smelling deliciously of green apples, like a reminder of warmer summer days.Tilting his head back until he came to rest against a fluffy pillow behind him, Louis settled in to gaze up at the large dormer above them.





	Me With Open Arms

**Author's Note:**

> #11 - It's raining. 
> 
> Hey everyone!  
> First of all a big thank you to the mods of this awesome fest!  
> Then an even bigger thank you to [Saori](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Saori) for kicking my ass and getting me on track and inspiring me and giving me feedback and once more kicking my ass! You're awesome!!
> 
> I signed up as a pinch hitter and getting #11 was just awesome!! I love rain and rainy days so much, it's not even funny :D!
> 
> The poem in this fic is one by Tyler Knott Gregson (you can find it [here](http://tylerknott.com/post/166818489477/just-point-yourself-home-and-in-the-distance) )! I adore every word that man publishes, so the credit to the title goes to him as well!
> 
> I hope you like what I came up with :)!

The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the flames in the fireplace as well as the occasional rustle of woollen blankets being re-arranged and pages being turned. From above, soft rain pattered against a large skylight, taking up most of ceiling in the living room. 

The sun was overcast with rain clouds but not yet completely hidden by them. Making hazy, grey afternoon light stream into the room and highlight the two men cuddled together in a nest of pillows and blankets below the window. The rainy day shrouded the scene in muted, washed-out colours, softening the intensity of everything except the orange flames dancing in the fireplace. A pair of forest green eyes, intensely trained on the pages of a book. And a pair of ocean blue eyes, framed by long, gently sweeping eyelashes. 

Lazily, Louis extracted one arm from under the mountain of blankets he was buried under and reached over to the side table, picking up his steaming mug of tea. Yorkshire, with just a dash of milk, no sugar. Softly he blew at the billowing steam still rising from the cup, breathing in deeply the comforting smell of childhood, of easier times, and of home. 

He took small sips and savoured every single one of them, letting the taste of each swallow linger in his mouth before taking the next sip. Because every cup of tea he got to enjoy in peace and quiet was an excellent one as opposed to just a good, but hurried brew in the morning before work. 

And a relaxed cup of tea on a rainy Sunday morning, cuddled up to Harry, and bedded in their fort of blankets and pillows under their big skylight was Louis favourite kind of tea. Also, this was basically his recipe for a perfect day in autumn. 

A low grumbling sound from his side made him pass his mug to Harry who was snuggled up to him, upper body propped halfway up against Louis and a mound of pillows. He had his legs wrapped up in woollen blankets like a mermaid tail and bent at the knees, a heavy coffee-table book propped against them. 

Amusedly, Louis watched Harry purse his plush lips against the rim of the porcelain cup and take tiny sips, careful not to spill anything on his chest and his favourite violet sweater that he had reserved for days like this. His eyes stared straight ahead, never leaving the pages of the book propped against his bent legs. 

Chuckling quietly to himself as to not disturb the calm that surrounded them, Louis carefully wound one arm around Harry’s shoulders and made himself comfortable once again. He carded one hand into Harry’s luscious locks, stroking his scalp and absentmindedly petting his hair. Indulging himself, he caught a whiff of Harry’s hair, smelling deliciously of green apples, like a reminder of warmer summer days. 

Tilting his head back until he came to rest against a fluffy pillow behind him, Louis settled in to gaze up at the large dormer above them. Big raindrops splattered against the window, pattering rhythmically and lulling him into a soft daze. He watched the rainwater slowly trail down the slanting glass, forming little rivulets that streamed further down and making it’s way down the window, flowing into other runlets, collecting big drops along their ways, and washing down over the edges of the skylight as broad streams. 

He could feel his eyelids grow heavier and his breathing get deeper, while at the same time his senses were hyper focused on his surroundings: The rain musically hitting the roof and the wood crackling in the fireplace on the other side of the room. Harry slurping the last dregs of the tea, his warmth bleeding into Louis from where they were pressed together. The soft wool of the blankets against his naked legs. 

Louis felt himself slowly slipping into a well-deserved afternoon nap, heat encasing him and making him drowsy. Perhaps the ingle, the thick sweater as well as the heavy woollen blankets were a bit exaggerated for the late autumn chill. But he felt to sleepy to either shed the jumper or get up and extinguish the fire. 

But suddenly, Harry slammed his coffee-table book shut next to him and hauled it to the side, grumbling about lighting setups and bone structure and other stuff under his breathe that Louis couldn’t really make out. Either way, his lazy Sunday afternoon haze has been literally been washed down the drain. Groggily, he sat up a little bit, knuckled the tiredness out of his eyes, and lolled his head over to look what Harry was up to. 

He was squirming around in Louis’ embrace, shaking his arm off, kicking his blankets to the side, and overall being just a menace. Huffing, Harry set the now empty mug down outside their nest and also pushed his tome even farther away as if it had offended him. Rolling onto his stomach, he crawling over pillows and rugs and Louis’ legs, reaching for his tablet on the coffee table next to Louis. 

When he finally got his hands on it, he scrambled his way back on his side of the pillow fort, settling back against Louis. Mumbling under his breathe, Harry cuddled back against Louis, wrapping the other man’s arm around himself once more again. Louis could not help a little smirk playing around his lips.

It was like that every lazy Sunday they managed to spend together like this. They always would get up late, stay in bed as long as they could or their bladders would allow them to. Then treat themselves to an extravagant fry-up with heaps of scrambled eggs and baked beans as well as tons of bangers and bacons, calories be damned. And sometime around the early afternoon, they would gather all the cushions, pillows, and spreads in the flat, piling them up directly under their skylight. Settling in for an afternoon of shared warmth, closeness, and one or two naps. 

And when the mood struck, some unhurried love making as well. Just tasting each other, breathing the other in and postponing the inevitable, violent ending for as long as they could. Taking the time to savour each other and worship their lover's body in a way that their hectic working week did not allow. 

That is, until Harry grew restless from laying around idly. Then things did progress a little faster than a rainy autumn day mood would suggest. 

And as it seemed, they hit that point earlier today than the last few times the couple had gotten to do this. Louis didn’t even get that first nap in to digest their brunch. Shame, really. And the patter of rain had done such a good job of lulling him in. 

But for one more moment, it seemed as if Harry found something else to occupy himself with. He had tumblr loaded on his tablet, scrolling down the site, and cursorily browsing what people were talking about on that rainy autumn day. 

Louis was almost at the point of dozing off again, when Harry cuddled up to him even more, prodding him in the ribs.

“Lou, can you read some poems to me, please?” 

Blinking his tired blue eyes open once more, he glanced down at Harry, who held the tablet expectantly up to him. He groaned exaggeratedly and dramatically stretched his arms out above their heads, plying Harry into begging a little more. He did beg extremely cute, sue him. 

“Please, Louuuu! Read to me! You know I love listening to your voice, please!” Full on pouting, lush bottom lip sticking out, Harry blinked up at Louis beseechingly. 

Chuckling, Louis took the tablet out of Harry’s hands, examining the blog opened in the tab. He knew that side, it was Harry’s favourite blog about poetry and photography. 

“Anything specific or just what catches my fancy?” Snuggling back against the mount of pillows behind him, he wrapped an arm around Harry’s broad shoulders once more and pulled him in until his head came to rest against his chest. 

He felt Harry rub his cheek against the soft fabric of his sweater and slip under Louis’ blanket. Tangling their legs together, Harry got comfortable, snaking an arm under Louis’ sweater and across his man’s waist, just waiting for him to start reciting and putting that angelic voice to good use. 

This was his favourite part about lazy Sunday afternoons, what he loved most: listening to Louis’ soft, raspy voice. Not just reproducing words but caressing each of them lovingly and breathing life into them, painting new worlds just for Harry to discover. And Louis reading poetry aloud, that was just a whole other experience. He pressed himself even closer to the man beside him. 

Intently, he concentrated on Louis softly reading a few haikus out loud. His chest vibrated below Harry’s ear and he let himself get pulled under by that delicious rasp and tinkling cadence of Louis' reading voice. 

To be completely honest, Louis’ voice alone was one of his favourite parts about his man. He could even swear up a storm, spewing curses like a sailor – to Harry it would sound like music. And a shopping list may be an epic if just Louis recounted it. Just listening to those short poems, made up of a handful of words, had Harry stretch up and press a soft kiss to Louis’ throat. 

Meanwhile, Louis’ free hand had once more found its way into Harry’s locks, stroking his head absentmindedly while recited one poem after the other, looking for just the right one to fit their mood. But judging from Harry lying half on top of him already and suckling kisses into his neck, it didn’t really matter anymore at this moment. 

But just then, his eyes settled onto it. Their haiku of the day, the one that felt like it was written just for them. The one that Harry would definitely love. 

“Okay, love, listen up, I think I got it,” pulling him in, angling the tablet to get a better view. 

“Just point yourself home,  
And in the distance you’ll see  
Me with open arms.”

Groaning, Harry knocked the tablet out of Louis’ hand and crawled completely on top of Louis, shucking the heavy blankets off them when he got settled in his lap. He sucked biting kisses into the soft skin of his throat, making his way up until he was hovering over him. 

They stared deeply into each other’s eyes, pausing for a moment. Breathing each other in, so close to each other that they could already taste the other man on the tip of their tongue. Listening to the rainfall increase its patter above them. Waiting for the other one to finally give in. 

“That was beautiful. You know how much I love to hear you talk about home.” And with that, Harry surged forward and pressed their lips together, slipping his tongue smoothly into Louis’ mouth without much ado. Coming home. 

They traded biting kisses, growing frantic at the same rhythm as the rain above. Hands roaming the other’s body, re-mapping the planes and angles that were as familiar as their own. 

Louis’ breathe hitched when Harry sat up and pulled his sweater up over his head, staring hungrily at Louis spread out under him. He shoved his hands below Louis’ top and helped him shed it as well. 

Harry was a sight to behold. Broad chest already heaving and glistening with sweat he worked up in the overly warm room. Tiny briefs cutting into the soft flesh of his hips. Muscles bulging and highlighting the black ink permanently engraved in his skin. 

“You’re my home.” Louis breathed into the space between them, barely audible over the sound of rain hitting glass and a loud crack from bursting wood in the fireplace.  
Whining, Harry leaned down again and pressed their chests together. Attacking Louis’ neck once more with sucks and bites. 

A heavy groan forced itself out of Louis’ marked up throat. Feeling Harry’s satiny skin stroke along him and his perky nipples rubbing over the downy hair on his chest had him hard in his briefs. He grabbed onto Harry’s hips, eager for some friction, and pulled him down onto his crotch. Moaning, Harry took the clue and began circling his hips, rubbing his own erection along Louis’ and making the other man bite back a whimper. 

Louis felt his pants get damp from the precome that was gathering at the tip of his cock, soaking the fabric and sensitizing his cock head ever more. Panting, he forced one of his hands loose from Harry’s sinfully undulating hips and pulled their erections out of their boxer briefs. 

Wrapping his hand around both of them, he eagerly pulled them off. Louis revelled in the way the soft skin of their cocks slid against each other, how the precome dripped steadily from both of them and easing the glide. Their heads catching against each other and Harry’s weight on top of him pressing him even deeper in the pillows and rugs. 

Harry dragged his hands up and down Louis’ chest, making him shudder every time he grazed a nipple. Making him feel owned by the feeling of possessiveness those wandering hands translated. It made his own hand pick up even more speed, practically flying along their lengths. He twisted his wrist on every other upward stroke and tightened his hold there, knowing exactly how much Harry loved an overly tight squeeze on his head. 

Just then, Harry reached down and wrapped one large hand around the both of them as well, fitting his long fingers between shorter ones. He matched Louis stroke for stroke, increasing the pressure on their cocks even more. 

Louis’ breathe came out as shallow pants, chest heaving under Harry’s lone hand that was occupied with thumbing one tiny, hard nipple. He felt sweat gathering along his hairline and in the back of his neck, the sweltering warmth of the room on the brink of oppressive. 

The rain pounding down on the window above him sounded like a stampede, spurring him on even more and made his blood rushing through his veins. Harry’s constant moaning above him was music to his ears and the occasional hitch of breathe a whole symphony. 

The smell of sweat, sex, and Harry overwhelming and when he licked across his dry lips, he imagined he could still taste traces of Yorkshire tea. 

And then, Harry swiped one thick thumb into the slit along Louis’ cock and he was gone. He was encompassed in white, hot silence as his orgasm rushed through him and he was only marginally aware of Harry shuddering above him in the throes of his own orgasm. 

When he came to once again, he was blanketed by Harry’s heavy weight laying atop of him, their legs tangled together and a blanket pulled over them to preserve their body heat.

Brown curls tickled his cheek and filled his nose with the somehow still fresh scent of green apples. And all that he could hear was the sound of their synced up, deep breathing and the patter of rain above them, the fire finally burned down. 

Rainy, lazy Sundays in autumn, spent in Harry's arms at home were definitely Louis' favourite.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I adore kudos and comments and hearing from you would mean the world to me!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the rest of this fest and if you liked my work, perhaps come back after the reveal for a fic post :)!


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